Mairon led his orcish army through the rugged, unforgiving terrain of the Lands of Rhûn, a harsh land that tested the endurance of even the most seasoned warriors. His eyes, like twin embers, surveyed the landscape with a keen intensity, taking in every detail. The mission at hand required his full attention, and his mind was a maelstrom of strategies and contingencies. He did not know what enemy will he encounter here. Yet he was sure it is a dangerous and daring one. He told Galadriel this crusade was to avoid the Valar's wrath, however the real reason was not it. This foe watched him for years now, surely knew of his family, and by now realized they were his weak spot. This threat had to be torn off the earth like as poisonous weed, and thrown into the fire of destruction.
Orcs were less dependent on the accessibility of water, than elves or men. However the sun was especially hot in here, forcing the troops to march only during the night time. As they delved deeper into the lands, the terrain shifted beneath their feet. The rocky outcrops gave way to rolling hills, and the air grew heavier with the scent of impending conflict. Cresting a hill, Mairon brought his army to a halt, his gaze fixed on the horizon. Before them lay a vast desert, its sands stretching endlessly under the black heavens.
In the distance, a massive structure loomed, its dark silhouette etched against the starlit sky. Mairon's eyes narrowed as he recognized the familiar architecture - a temple, not unlike the one in Númenor, but grander in scale. Its spires reached towards the heavens, as if challenging the very gods themselves.
As Mairon led his forces across the shifting sands, a sense of unease settled over him. The desert was too quiet, the air too still. His instincts, honed over millennia of warfare and intrigue, screamed of danger.
Suddenly, the ground began to tremble. Over the crest of a nearby dune, a vast army materialized, their weapons glinting in the starlight. Dark-skinned warriors clad in midnight blue armor formed perfect lines, their discipline evident in every movement. Mairon's orcs bristled, ready for battle, but he held up a hand, staying their aggression. This was not a mindless horde - there was order in their ranks, purpose in their formation.
From the enemy lines, a lone figure emerged, riding toward Mairon. Tall and austere, with flowing silver-white hair streaked with midnight blue, he approached slowly. Mairon recognized him instantly - one of the Istari, the Blue Wizard.
"Welcome, Lord Mairon," the wizard's voice carried across the sands, smooth as silk yet edged with steel. "We've been expecting you."
Mairon's mind raced. This was unexpected, but he wouldn't let surprise show on his face. "Have you now?" he replied, his tone carefully neutral. "And who might you be? The Shadow of the East I've heard so much about?"
The Blue Wizard's lips curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Me? Oh no, I am but a humble servant to a greater power. But please, won't you join us inside?" He gestured towards the looming temple. "There's someone who's been very eager to meet you."
Mairon hesitated, his gaze flicking between the wizard, the army, and the ominous structure behind them. Every instinct told him this was a trap, yet curiosity burned within him. Who was this mysterious power that commanded such forces? And why had they chosen to reveal themselves now?
With a subtle gesture to his troops to remain vigilant, Mairon stepped forward. "Very well," he said, his voice betraying nothing of the calculations whirring through his mind. "Lead on, Blue Wizard. Let us see what your master has to say."
As Mairon followed the Blue Wizard toward the imposing temple, he kept his senses alert for any sign of treachery. The desert night was eerily still, broken only by the soft crunch of the hooves against the sand. Behind them, both armies remained poised, the tension palpable in the air.
The closer they drew to the temple, the more its true scale became apparent. What had seemed merely large from a distance now revealed itself to be truly colossal. Its black marble gleaming under the starlight; intricate runes and symbols adorned its surface, most in familiar to Mairon black speech, others of aboriginal origin.
"Impressive, isn't it?" the Blue Wizard's voice broke the silence, a hint of pride coloring his words. "Built by hands both mortal and divine, a testament to the power that dwells within."
Mairon's eyes narrowed. "And what power might that be? I find myself curious about this... greater being you serve."
The wizard's laugh was cold and brittle. "All in good time, Lord Mairon. My master is not one to be rushed. But I assure you, your questions will be answered soon enough."
They reached the base of the temple, where massive doors of polished obsidian stood slightly ajar. As they passed through, Mairon felt a sudden chill, as if crossing an invisible threshold.
The interior was a vast chamber, its ceiling lost in shadows high above. Pillars of black stone rose on either side, each carved with scenes of conquest and subjugation. The air was thick with the scent of incense and something else - a cloying, metallic odor that set his teeth on edge. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he saw that the walls were lined with alcoves, each containing a statue of a figure cloaked in shadow. Their faces were obscured, but their postures spoke of power and malevolence.
At the far end of the chamber, a dais rose from the floor, supporting a throne of black stone. Upon it sat a figure shrouded in darkness, their features hidden beneath a hood of deepest midnight. Mairon felt a chill run down his spine as he realized the figure was completely still - not even the rise and fall of breath disturbed their silhouette.
"My lord," the Blue Wizard called out, his voice echoing in the cavernous space. "I have brought our... guest."
The figure on the dais stirred, and Mairon felt a presence brush against his mind, a familiar energy that was lurking on the edges of his life all these years. A voice finally spoke.
"Welcome, Mairon, my love. It has been too long."
Familiar voice, a call from the darkest depths of his past he hoped he would never hear again, caused him to freeze. The figure got up, and removed the cape, approaching the place where he stood.
"Tindómë," he finally managed.
The tall woman, with fiery red braids cascading down her back and piercing golden eyes that seemed to hold the secrets of the universe, glided towards him, her steps confident and deliberate. She came to a stop in front of him, her hand resting lightly on his chest as she leaned in closer. Her dark dress clung to her lithe figure like a second skin, accentuating every curve and leaving little to the imagination. She was undeniably beautiful, her features symmetrical and refined, bearing the unmistakable stamp of divine. Her full, seductive lips painted deep red, appeared to be permanently curled into a sly smile, revealing white teeth that glinted in the moonlight. Her skin was as smooth and flawless as the finest porcelain, giving her an otherworldly appearance. But it was the look in her eyes that made anyone who looked shiver with fear - a cruel, calculating gaze that hinted at the nature of an apex predator, ready to strike at any moment without mercy or hesitation.
Mairon's breath caught in his throat as Tindómë's hand moved from his chest up to his neck. Her touch was both familiar and alien, sending conflicting waves of desire and revulsion through his body. He fought to maintain his composure, acutely aware of the Blue Wizard's watchful gaze.
"My love," Tindómë repeated, her golden eyes locked onto his. "How I've missed you. All these years, watching from afar, waiting for the perfect moment to reveal myself."
Mairon's mind raced, struggling to process this unexpected turn of events. Tindómë - a name he had buried deep in the recesses of his memory, a remnant of a past he thought long forgotten. Mandos' fallen maia, cruel and terrible in her darkness, served Melkor alongside him for centuries. They were allies with benefits, satisfying each other's twisted desires, that elven and human bodies of the slaves simply could not quell. He was relieved when she perished. Yet here she stood, as vibrant and terrible as ever.
"I thought you were dead," he said, his voice low and controlled. "How is it you stand before me now?"
Tindómë's laugh was like shattered glass, beautiful yet dangerous. "Dead? Oh my dear, surely you know better than most how... flexible... the boundaries between life and death can be for beings like us." Her fingers trailed along his jawline, her touch both a caress and a threat. "I merely... retreated for a time. To observe. To plan."
Mairon caught her wrist, halting her exploration.
"You seem surprised," she continued, her voice a silken caress. "Did you truly believe you could escape me forever? That I would allow you to play at redemption, to build a life with your precious elf undisturbed?"
At the mention of Galadriel, Mairon's eyes hardened. "What game are you playing, Tindómë? Why reveal yourself now?"
She laughed, a sound like shattering glass. "Oh, my dear Mairon. Always so quick to assume there's a game. Can't you accept that I simply missed you?" Her smile turned cruel. "But you're right, of course. There is more at stake here than mere sentiment. You see, my love," Tindómë continued as she released her wrist from his grip, "while you've been playing house with your little queen, I've been building an empire. The mortals of these lands worship me as a goddess, and soon, all of Middle-earth will kneel at my feet."
Mairon's eyes narrowed. "And what of Morgoth? I thought your loyalty was to him alone."
A flash of something - anger? pain? - crossed Tindómë's face before it settled back into its mask of cruel beauty. "Morgoth is gone, but his vision lives on. Through me. Through us, if you're willing. You know, without you by my side it won't be the same."
Mairon's mind whirled with implications. "You can't possibly think-"
"That you'll join me?" Tindómë finished, her smile widening. "Oh, but I do. You see, my love, I know you better than anyone. Better than your Valar masters, better than your little wife, better even than yourself. The darkness in you calls out to me, just as it always has."
She placed her hand to cup his face. "Come now, my dark maia. We were so good together! Surely your elf can't give you what you desire. But I can…"
Mairon recoiled from Tindómë's touch, his eyes flashing with barely contained fury. "You know nothing of my desires," he snarled, his voice low and dangerous. "The person you speak of no longer exists."
Tindómë's smile never wavered, but her eyes hardened. "Oh, but he does. He's buried deep, perhaps, but I can see him there, just beneath the surface. Waiting to be awakened."
She circled him slowly, her movements predatory, as of a cat. "Tell me, Mairon, does your elven bride know the depths of your darkness? Does she truly understand the power that courses through your veins?" Tindómë's voice dropped to a whisper. "Or do you hide it from her, ashamed of your true nature?"
She leaned in closer, her breath hot against his ear. "You don't have to pretend with me. You don't have to restrain yourself, to quell your true desires."
Mairon took a step back, his eyes narrowing. "You're delusional, Tindómë. Whatever we once had, it's long dead. I've moved beyond that life."
A flicker of rage passed across Tindómë's face before she schooled her features into a mask of calm. "Have you really? Or are you simply playing a part, hoping that if you pretend long enough, it will become real? Tell me, do you truly believe Galadriel accepts you for who you are, and not for the façade you present? Does she know what is it you like… in bed?" she clearly struck the nerve. " Who is delusional now, Mairon?"
At the mention of Galadriel's name, Mairon's control slipped. He lunged forward, grasping Tindómë by the throat. "Never speak her name with your foul mouth," he snarled, his eyes blazing with fury.
Tindómë laughed, even as his fingers tightened around her neck. "There he is," she gasped. "There's the Mairon I remember. The one who takes what he wants, consequences be damned."
For a moment, Mairon's grip tightened further, rage and old instincts warring within him. Then, with a shuddering breath, he released her and stepped back. "Stay away from me and my family. Or I swear you will regret it," he said, his voice steadier now.
Tindómë rubbed her throat, her golden eyes gleaming with a mixture of pain and rage. "Family? Family!" she repeated laughing. "The thing you call family is an abomination! You subdued this weakling, purely because you desire things that you cannot have! It is merely a game for you: to turn your most determined enemy into your mistress, making her believe it was all her! Such the excitement that you've always chased. But you have got her already, aren't you bored? Tell me, did she struggle much when you forced her into this illusion of love that she thinks she now feels? None of that is real, and you will grow weary of her soon, if not already. Just as you did with the rest of your countless elven whores back in the day. She can never give you what you truly ever wanted - an heir, a son. But I can."
Mairon's eyes widened, a flicker of shock passing over his face before he could mask it. "What are you talking about?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.
Tindómë's lips curved into a cruel smile. "Oh, did I strike a nerve? You always wanted an heir, Mairon. Someone to carry on your legacy, to rule by your side. Galadriel can never give you that, only weak girls, one after another. But I..." She paused, her hand moving to rest on her abdomen. "I already had once, didn't I? And you loved me! You still do, I know it!"
Mairon felt as if the ground had dropped out from beneath him, as the wave of dark and painful memories hit him. "You dare bringing up this… mistake, this perversion? I have never loved you, you delusional creature. It was nothing more than sex for me. The only thing you can bore is darkness!" he hissed, overwhelmed with fury. "Nothing alive can come out of the evil that fills you! I will destroy you and this cursed place before you know it, and make damn sure that you will never ever come close to the ones I truly love!"
With the rage contorting his face, he turned on his heels, eager to leave the place that had become a crucible of his past pains. The fury that churned within him was barely contained, the unhealed wounds of his memories bleeding fire over his spirit.
The woman watched his retreating form, her eyes brimming with tears that burned on their way down her face. She stood rooted to the spot, her gaze fixed on Mairon's back as he walked away. Her voice, filled with the venom of her anger, pierced the silence. "If you leave now, I will make you regret it! You will pay for this!" she cried, her voice echoing through the desolate landscape. Yet, he neither slowed nor turned back, his resolve unbroken by her threats.
As his figure disappeared from sight, Tindómë fell to the ground, her cries of anguish echoing from the walls. "If I can't have your child, Mairon, nobody will," she whispered, her words meant for no one but herself. Her face, contorted with pain, slowly transformed into a mask of cold malice. The fires of her wrath were kindled anew, and determination hardened her features.
Rising from the ground, she called for the Wizard, her voice steady and devoid of the vulnerability that had moments before threatened to overwhelm her. The air grew colder, and the light seemed to dim as she prepared to set her dark resolve into motion. "Raze his army, but leave him unharmed. I need him alive," she ordered.